


The Hunter's Bounty

by kespa



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action, Ambiguously Moral!Hux, Anal Sex, Bottom!kylo, Bounty Hunter!Kylo Ren, Fugitive!Rey, Han Solo References Abound, M/M, Power Play, Smut, Tatooine, Top!hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7554004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kespa/pseuds/kespa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren is a young bounty hunter - hungry, lawless, unpredictable, and he’s on the hunt for an elusive target: Ben Solo, missing son of the Resistance.  He trusts no one but his partner (and even his partner is a liability), he doesn’t follow the laws of the hunter’s guild (steal another hunter’s bounty and pay the price) and he never gets caught.</p><p>Until he does.  And then, he finds out that getting caught isn’t so bad after all.  He might even try it again, some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunter's Bounty

**Author's Note:**

> This is a more light-hearted, smutty fic to balance out the angst of my other Kylux work, Breathing Apparatus. It's my first time sitting down and trying to write a sex scene, so feedback would be lovely.

—Chapter One—The Hunger—

 

—An Unlikely Team-Up—

Kylo has his legs folded over the table, back slouched, glass tumbler by his foot, hood pulled low to conceal his mask, one hand flung over his body as if he has passed out from too much Tatooinian grog, the other resting as always on the butt of his blaster.

Five weeks of dealing with the worst of the Arkanis Sector’s scum has sharpened his nerves to a knife’s edge.  Little does he know, today he will be successful.

Opposite Kylo in the grimy booth, a Saurin with its own scaly hand on the butt of its blaster leans forwards and growls.  

Kylo is not xenophobic per say - but he does not enjoy the thought of learning to interpret the grunts and snarls which the reptilian uses to communicate.

He affects intense boredom, his grimace hidden behind his mask and his black robe, as he says:  ‘So.  How many bounties have you caught?  Anything I’ve heard of?’

The Saurin hisses between his disturbingly sharp teeth.

‘Alive?’

A growl rumbles in its throat.  Kylo watches with one eye as the glass of Correlian rum vibrates at the sound.

‘I didn’t think so.’

The Saurin makes an indignant series of grunts that can only ask the question: and how many bounties can you claim, living or dead, stranger?

Kylo channels arrogance in every one of his splayed limbs.  He cocks his head to one side.  ‘Oh, less than you.  But as you know, I’m new to this game.’

The Saurin grunts and Kylo’s eyes narrowed.  ‘No, not yet.’  He is not a recognised bounty hunter - not until he has successfully claimed 50,000 credits for his services.

A demanding growl makes Kylo’s hand twitch on his blaster.  The little dunerat is getting cocky.

‘Why don’t you go away and let me finish my drink and I’ll think about it?  Choosing a partner takes time.’  Kylo mutters.  He doesn’t say: and I have absolutely no reason to think you won’t just kill me for my ship the moment I tell you where it is.

He and the Saurin stare at each other for along moment, before the creature hops out of the booth noisily.  Kylo grimaces at the thought of letting the slimy, unwashed creature anywhere near his precious ship.

When the reptilian is out of sight, Kylo swings his legs down off the table and takes up his glass of amber liquor.  Holding it up to the light, he stares at the last thing he can afford to buy himself.  He has finally run out of credits.  Apart from his baby and the clothes on his back, Kylo has nothing left except the single tumbler of rum.  

Kylo pulls up the metal chin of his cowl to reveal a patch of sun-burnt skin, and a full bottom lip.  Saluting the empty booth, he drinks his shot down in one, savouring the taste on his tongue.  He will just have to hunt on his own, he tells himself - he doesn’t need someone to watch his back, or to do the heavy lifting.

Kylo raises his hand to the bar to call for another drink.

 

—Later—

Kylo is woken from a rum-fuelled haze by these words: ‘The bartender told me you have a ship, and you’re looking for a co pilot.’

He slouches lower in his seat, his feet back on the table, his robe pulled far over his head to obscure his drooping eyes.  Glasses litter the table.  

‘The bartender,’ Kylo slurs, his eyes unfocused on the human male figure standing beside him, ‘thinks I can pay my tab.  Sssso he’s not a reliable source, you see.’  He pushes clumsily at his chin until he finally manages to slot his mask back into place.

Kylo squints, his head already pounding in time with the bar’s instrumentalists.  Standing before him is a tall, skinny human male, trying to seem more bulk with the additions of blast-proof armour and a clunky reflective visor.  His accent gives him away - he is human.

Kylo slouches further back, the picture of insolence, and pushes the empty glasses aside with one foot.  ‘Partner, not copilot.’

‘Partner?’  The man asks warily.  He sounds young, Kylo decides, and just a touch desperate.

‘Beginners in my trade don’t last long without a partner to watch their backs.’  Kylo slurs.

‘Your trade?’

‘Bounty hunting.’

The man recoils slightly.  Kylo can feel his righteous disgust through the cowl.

‘And smuggling, once I’ve paid for my ship’s repairs.  I’d also make a good galactic mercenary.  My skill set is quite specific.’

‘The bartender must have been mistaken, then.’  The man takes a shuffled step backwards, trying to retreat, but Kylo can hear the uncertainty in his tone.  It makes him sit up, pull himself to his full height in the booth, and turn his black visor on the unlikely candidate.

‘And what’s your skill set?’

‘I… fix ships.  Trade junk.  I’m damn good at flying them, too.’  Not the whole story, but it never is, on a planet like Tatooine.

‘You any good - at fixing ships that is?’

The man shrugs, answering immediately, instinctively.  ‘It’s all I’ve ever done.’

Kylo cocks his head, satisfied.  ‘Then you’ll do.’  Never mind that he is far too drunk to be making this decision.

‘W-wait.  I’m not interested in becoming a bounty hunter, or a criminal, or a- a-‘ the man blusters.

‘But you need the money, and you want a ship.  You want to get off Tatooine.’  Kylo can read the frustration, the wanderlust, even without seeing the man’s eyes.

‘Well yes but… I’m not getting my name onto a galactic register.’

Kylo laughs darkly.  ‘Why?  Because you won’t be able to join the New Republic army?  You’re on Tatooine.  Every creature in this cantina is either scum, or they’re working for scum.  Every one is a criminal.  There is no register for the Arkanis Sector.’  Kylo sees the man visibly waver.  ‘Anything you steal on this planet has already been stolen.’  

He stands up abruptly, moving past the man towards the exit of the bar.  ‘And you want a ship.  Why don’t you come take a look at mine?’

After a moment of thought the man replies, uncertain: ‘sure.’

Better than a Saurin, Kylo thinks as he strides towards the harsh daylight.  Just about.

Outside in the desert heat, Kylo leads his new acquaintance towards Mos Espa’s ports.  The pleasure quarters are doing a vigorous, and sometimes violent, trade - pleasure slaves call out their prices alongside food vendors and cantinas spill music and shouting and blaster fire into the dry air on every corner.  Villains of every size and species drink and smoke and fight in the street, skulking under the cover of the tarps covering alleyways.  

Kylo strides through the warren of sandy back-streets until he finally reaches the reinforced garage door which is his own.  He stops before he opens it and takes the measure of the man following him one more time.  ‘What?’ he is asked, every bit as wary as Kylo.

Without responding, Kylo keys in his code - a single, weak lock is all that he can afford to protect his baby from the thieves and smugglers of Tatooine.  He slips through, with the man at his heels.

There is a moment of silence as they both take in the huge craft parked in the open-air garage, covered by several tarps.  The smell of leaking engine fuel, burnt out rods and fried circuits is unmistakable, and the ship seems to sink sadly into the sand beneath its docking gear, but Kylo is still proud of his ship.

‘What a piece of junk.’

Kylo whips round, his blaster drawn, and the man takes a step back, raising one hand in defence - the other is drawing his own blaster.  ‘Watch your mouth,’ the bounty hunter hisses from behind his cowl.

‘Okay, okay.’  The man looks sceptical, even with the bulbous, wasp’s-eye cowl obscuring his face.  He considers the ship carefully.  ‘Is it fast?’

‘She is the fastest ship within a hundred parsecs of the Arkanis Sector.’  Kylo flicks his blaster menacingly when the man snorts at his hyperbole.  ‘When she is back in prime condition, that is,’ he allows.

‘And what condition is she in now?’  The man asks shrewdly.

‘Grounded.  Temporarily.’  Kylo admits at last.

The man huffs and turns towards the exit.

‘Where are you going?’

‘You want a mechanic, not a partner - or better yet a junk trader.  And you definitely don’t want me.  You’ve got a giant moon-shaped hunk of scrap, not a ship,’ the man cries in exasperation, turning to go.

Kylo decides to file away those comments for later punishment.  ‘You’re never going to get off this planet by playing by the rules, stranger.  You won’t even make it out of the next cantina you walk into.’  The man stops, clearly listening.  Kylo presses on.  ‘Crime is about survival, here, if you want to be anything more ambitious than a moisture farmer, and it’s definitely the only way to escape.’

‘And what are you trying to escape?’  The man turns back, a challenge in the way light reflects off his visor.  Kylo ignores the question.

‘I’m not planning to trade slaves or get cozy with the Hutts - I’m just going to catch a few piece-of-shit smugglers and get paid by other piece-of-shit smugglers to do it.  Then I’ll fix up my baby and jump out of here at the speed of light.’

‘And you need a partner for that?’

‘Until I find someone more reliable.  Bounty hunting is a dangerous trade to get into on your own.’

The man thinks about it again but Kylo can tell he’s convinced, for now.

Eventually he asks: ‘What’s she called?  Your ship?’

The question takes Kylo aback, for a moment.  ‘The- The Millennium Falcon.’

‘And you?  What’s your name?’

Kylo reaches up to his cowl, pulling it off and shaking out his sweaty hair.  ‘Kylo Ren.’  He pouts as the man snorts at his chosen name.  ‘And yours?’

The man reaches up and removes his own cowl.  Beneath it is a tanned complexion and dark hair that frames a face almost as young as Kylo’s.  The kind of face he can trust, for now.

‘Poe.  Poe Dameron.’

 

—Some Months Later, a Deal Goes Down—

Kylo Ren is a young bounty hunter - hungry, lawless, unpredictable.  He trusts no one but his partner (and even his partner is a liability), he doesn’t follow the laws of the hunter’s guild (steal another hunter’s bounty and pay the price) and he never gets caught.

Until he does.

Kylo is stood with his back pressed to the cool wall of a dwelling, blending in as best he can with the city’s shadows.  Mos Espa is a bright city - it seems that there is no corner of it that is not baked by Tatooine’s unforgiving stars, and the only shelter from this heat can be found in the dark cantinas, the sunken dwellings, or the worn tarps thrown across alleys.

Still, dark spots can be found, and Kylo is an expert at finding them - places where is black garb can blend completely with the shadows.  Poe has pointed out to his partner on many occasions how unsuited black is to the desert planet.  He also likes to complain that bounty hunters rely on head-on intimidation and prowess in combat, not stealth, when hunting.

Kylo has long since given up arguing with the irritating womp-rat with whom he has to share the Falcon.  The ham-fisted, posturing bounty hunters of Tatooine might swagger into conflict with their guns primed, and Kylo does enjoy playing that part when he has an audience, but he also knows the value of sneaking up on prey.

Prey and bounty are not always the same thing.

Take this scenario, for example.  Kylo stands perfectly still, but he is acutely aware of the four people in the alleyway behind him.  A trio of Gand have formed a loose circle trapping a small human against one wall of the street.  The human’s face is obscured by a hood, with a mask has been fashioned crudely out of a scarf.  Underneath the brown material, Kylo knows, is a human girl, with tanned skin and calloused palms.

The girl has put up a good fight.  Kylo had to follow the Gand who were chasing her for almost an hour until they finally managed to surround her.  Even now, she is dangerous.  One Gand has suffered a nasty bite to one arm, and the girl clearly knew exactly where to kick that other one - right behind its scaly glands, in the weak spot of its armour.  Kylo would be impressed, if he wasn’t standing so still.

The Gand speak to each other in a bastard form of standard that Kylo has trouble deciphering.  He knows the bounty on the girl’s head, though, and the trio will be heading back to their ship to deliver her to her owner, a slaver who takes a dim view of escaped property.

Which explains why Kylo is here alone.  Because Poe would not approve.  Even after months of (mostly) unsuccessful bounty hunting, Kylo is still running into Poe’s moral walls.  Reuniting a slave with her former masters would definitely trigger Kylo’s partner into a tedious rhetoric on what is Right and Decent.  Hence Ren, back to wall, aware of Gands’ ever move, tense of the thought of jumping in without backup.

That’s another reason why bounty hunters generally aren’t stealthy, Kylo reasons, as he readies his blaster.  It gives you far too much time to think about the consequences.

Priming his blaster, Kylo steps out into the alley.

Kylo ducks the first bolt on instinct and fires one of his own, watching with satisfaction as the first of the trio goes down.  

He advances a few steps, sights now locked on the others.  The second lets loose a lucky shot, which cuts through Kylo’s cape as he swerves to avoid getting hit.  Back against the wall, Kylo takes out the second.

The third Gand tries to drag the girl by her scarf in front of him as a human shield.  She jabs him viciously in his poison sacks.  

Kylo’s steps do not falter - he fires, catching the side of the Gand’s head as the girl struggles free.  The third bounty hunter folds to the sandy ground and Mos Espa’s back alley is silent and baking hot once more.

A slight wind stirs as the girl steadies herself.  She fixes her scarf, but not before Kylo’s eyes find black hair, angry eyes and a thin, scarred arm.  ‘Thanks.’  The girl offers warily, but she doesn’t move forward.

Kylo is incapable of subtlety.  He raises his blaster.  ‘If you really want to make it up to me, how about you come quietly and help me collect my reward from Jaybo Sen?’  The girl’s eyes widen and Kylo settles back on his heels, smiling behind his mask.  No victory is sweeter than one which is stolen.

This is the moment when two sets of hands grip Kylo on either arm and lock him in place.

Kylo struggles and grunts in pain and frustration and, above all, confusion, looking wildly left and right.  Two stormtroopers stare back at him behind their masks.  They are the first white-armoured soldiers Kylo has seen since he left for the outer rim (that he can remember).  He stills when a blaster settles against his back.

‘What the kriff is this?’  He demands.

Light, blinding and hot, pierces his eyes.  Kylo shuts them against the painful glare, turning his head into the black folds of his hood.  When he squints, he can see that the glare is from a chrome body, standing before him under the desert suns.

Behind the helmet, a cold female voice issues an order.  ‘Put him in a holding cell.’

Kylo watches his bounty back away, and disappear around a corner, powerless to stop her.

 

—Detained—

He could break free, he supposes, but Kylo is almost too curious to start a fight.  And there are quite a few stormtroopers escorting him.  The bounty hunter is pulled through the alleys of Mos Espa, past cantinas and pleasure dens and the staring eyes of a hundred rogues.  The locals watching his procession go by have bemused expressions to match his, blowing acrid smoke into the stuffy evening air to hide them.

When the troopers finally duck into a collection of buildings that look suspiciously like a barracks, Kylo is more confused to find it teaming with white-armoured bodies.  Seemingly overnight, Mos Espa appears to have become swarmed by stormtroopers.

Kylo is almost laughing at the absurdity of it all.  Until they take his blaster off him.  Then they begin stripping him of his armour, starting with his cowl, and Kylo’s sense of humour quickly disappears.

The bounty hunter is allowed to keep his black robes and his cape, once several firearms have been relieved from his person.  He feels his temper edging towards the precipice.  Instead, when he is pushed into a holding cell, Kylo leans one arm against the bars casually.  Grinning up at the silver officer standing before the cell, he decides insolence is the most appropriate response to these new heights of absurdity.

‘So.  You got me.  I think introductions are in order?’

‘Kylo Ren.  Human male of undetermined age,’ the trooper reals off while her soldier takes notes.  Kylo tries not to feel naked without his could, and fails.  ‘Bounty hunter for hire, origins unknown, reputation for unlawful-‘

‘You see, I was actually asking for your-‘

‘Guilty of violating the bounty hunter’s code by engaging another hunter for their bounty, without applying for the claim yourself.’

‘How could you possibly know if-?’

‘You ambushed them in an alley.  It was clearly not a legitimate challenge-‘

‘Now see, honey.’  The way the officer grips her blaster convulsingly takes Kylo he is finally having an effect - albeit not a positive one.  ‘Officer.  Sir.  I have no kriffing clue who you are.  Care to introduce yourself?’

‘You have been detained by the First Order for violating-‘

‘The First Order?’  Kylo asks sharply.  ‘You have no jurisdiction in this sector.’

‘We do now.  The arkanis System is now a colony under the First Order, and in Mos Espa my word is now law.’

‘Mos Espa has no law.’  Kylo scoffs.

‘It does now, and you will be punished under them.’

‘You let my bounty escape, I’d say that’s punishment enough.’  Kylo gives the officer his best winning smile.  ‘Unless you have something more personal in mind?  I’m not big on punishment but hey, I’d try anything once.’

The officer leans forward, anger clear in her every tense muscle.  ‘Listen here, Kylo Ren-‘  She hisses, only to be interrupted by a trooper approaching her at a march.

‘Captain Phasma,’ the trooper salutes.  ‘Beta patrol has just returned.  The criminal they had captured escaped before they could bring it in to custody.’

‘Oh dear.  It’s just me who’s playing nice, then.’  Kylo puts in.

Phasma turns away from him, towards the officer.  ‘Thank you soldier.  Return to your post.’  To the troopers who dragged Kylo in she issues a different order: ‘Catalogue his artillery and keep him int he cell until morning.  I’ll deal with him later.’

‘That sounds like a promise, Captain.’  Kylo calls after her as she marches away.

When she is out of sight the smile slips from his face.

 

—Hours, or Perhaps Only Minutes, Later—

The stormtroopers are no good for conversations.  After slouching against the wall of the cell, stalking from one side to the other, testing the bars by running body at them, and sitting on the floor, Kylo is starting to miss Poe’s constant moral crises and his shouting.

When a voice cuts through the murmur of faceless soldiers who refuse to be goaded, Kylo feels strangely relieved.

‘I heard you called the Captain “honey”.’  Getting up off the floor to face his visitor, Kylo finds himself surprised again.  This officer is not another stormtrooper.  He is wearing a high-collared, black First Order uniform.  He is relatively tall, his skin pale, and his hair is shockingly red and combed precisely in place.  His eyes are cold but his mouth is twisted in a smirk and his bearing is not only arrogant, but powerful - shoulders back, relaxed but controlled.

Kylo’s default for talking to strangers is annoyingly flirtatious (except towards Hutts, and other insectoid aliens - Kylo isn’t xenophobic, really, he appreciates a Twi’lek dancer as much as the next shady Tatooinian criminal) 

‘Why, you want in on the action?’  Kylo leans against the bars with his hip jutted out and gives the man an obvious once over, hoping to fluster him.

The man snorts appreciatively.  ‘Congratulations,’ he tells Kylo, his accent clipped and his hands locked behind his back.  ‘You are our first detainee.  Surely that will improve your reputation as a reckless criminal?’

Kylo snorts in return.  ‘Arrested for killing not one but three bounty hunters?  I don’t think it will win me many favours.  Anyway, isn’t that some kind of public service?  Pest control?’

‘Not when you are one yourself.’  The man’s pale eyes are intense and focussed on Kylo’s face.  Self conscious, Kylo brushes his curled hair back from his face and masks it by flashing the man a winning smile.

‘A bounty hunter maybe, but I didn’t violate any guild laws, or whatever your boss Phasma has be in for.’

The man gives Kylo a small smile.  ‘And how did you come to that conclusion?’

‘In order t violate a guild’s creeds, you have to be a part of it.  I haven’t claimed enough bounties to qualify.’

‘It’s not very sporting to cheat to bump up your credit score, is it?’

‘That’s hardly the jurisdiction of a First Order colony, is it sweetheart?  Especially one that didn’t exist yesterday.’

After a long pause, the man hums in agreement.  ‘You make a good point.’  Kylo’s eyebrow rises in surprise.  The man turns to the trooper behind him.  ‘Release the lock, soldier.’

‘Sir-?’

‘Do it now.’

Kylo hears the unmistakable whirr of the door to his cell unlocking.

The man with the red hair cocks his head.  ‘You are free to go of course.’  Kylo steps to his cell door and opens it cautiously, to find it swings back easily.  He keeps his eyes on the stranger, not moving beyond the threshold of the cell.  ‘Or,’ the man continues, ‘you could…’

‘I could what?’  Kylo leans against the frame of the door, eyes locked with the cold ones opposite him.  The smirk resurfaces on the man’s face.

‘You could follow me and see what happens if you keep calling me sweetheart.’

Kylo blinks, stunned.

‘General-?’  The stormtrooper interrupts nervously.  Two other troopers shuffle around uncomfortably in Kylo’s periphery.

‘Return the bounty hunter’s affects, soldier.  He is free to go wherever he chooses.’  There is no arguing with the man’s commanding voice.  The troopers hastily set about gathering Kylo’s armour and blaster pistols down to the knives he keeps in his boots.  They finish by piling them into Kylo’s arms.

The General breaks eye contact and walks towards the door.

After only a moment’s hesitation, Kylo follows him.

 

—Call Me Hux—

Most of Mos Espa’s dwellings are built low to the ground, dug into the earth to shield its residents from the scorching sun.  There are only a handful of quarters in Tatooine’s capital city that use more advanced techniques than curved walls made with mud and sand.  The First Order’s headquarters seems to be one of the few that incorporates synisteel and glass into its design.  The interior is cool, and stairs lead up to multiple floors.

Kylo pushes his helmet onto his head and gathers up his belongings.  Then, feeling faintly ridiculous, he follows the General past regiments of stormtroopers, up flights of stairs, and down cool, sandy corridors.  

At the end of one such corridor they come to a steel door.  It is better protected than Kylo’s garage - after activating a print scanner, a voice calibrator and inputing two passcodes, the General opens it to reveal an apartment. 

The suns are setting outside in Mos Espa, and the General’s rooms have a beautiful view of the city through his slanted blinds.  From a distance it almost looks inviting.  The setting sun makes everything soft and cool, like the breeze through the open windows.

The General’s aesthetic is clear.  The walls are the same sandy colour as all of Tatooine’s buildings and the floor is tiled.  A black and white First Order symbol has pride of place above a functional desk.  The sofas and the chairs are made of single pieces of black polyglas.  Every window is rimmed with grey binds.  The bed looks comfortable but not ostentatious, and black. 

The only splash of colour comes from a vase of red flowers (synthetic, because what flowers grow on this forsaken planet?) placed in the centre of a low table.  Something picked out by someone else, no doubt.  The General would be perfectly happy if his hair was the only non-monochromatic thing in his rooms, Kylo suspects, and approves.

The bounty hunter takes in every inch of the large, understated room.  ‘You First Order officers, you’re here to stay then?’

The General turns and gives him another smile.  ‘We haven’t properly introduced ourselves.’

Kylo sets his bundle of clothes and blasters down on a chair in the living area, within easy reach, and leans his tall body against one of the columns which intersect the room.  The General has stepped up on the raised platform where the bed lies.  Kylo has to tilt his head up slightly to see his smirk.  Kylo smirks back.

‘Kylo Ren, bounty hunter by trade.  And what business does a General have in this sarlacc pit of a planet?’

‘“General is what they call me.’  The man responds, head cocked.  ‘I am, in fact, Sergeant Armitage Hux of the First Order, Oversight Commander in the Arkanis Sector.’

Kylo raises an eyebrow.  ‘I would have thought distinctions of rank are quite important to military regimes.  What has a Sergeant done to be called General?’

The General pauses as though considering whether he should answer.  ‘It is no secret that I am ambitious.  My superior, the Colonel, demoted me and posted me to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy after it became clear I could do his job better than him.  The smirk, though pale and attractive, has turned bitter.  ‘He used to call me “General”.  In a derogatory sense, of course, but it does amuse me.  One day it will become an actuality.’

‘And Captain Phasma-?’

‘Is my squad leader.  But every General needs a Captain to lead their army - she does not approve, unsurprisingly, but the troopers seem to have latched on to the whole joke.  In any event, Tatooine is my exile until power shifts again in the leadership.’

The General turns away from where he has been examining the setting suns to study Kylo intently.  Then, he turns again, picking up the decanter from a sideboard near the bed.  The General pours two glasses of golden liquid.  ‘Correlian brandy?’  He offers casually.

‘Yes,’  the bounty hunter reaches out a hand to accept the liquor, ‘but I’m more of a rum drinker myself, Armit-‘

Kylo is interrupted by a sharp:  ‘Call me Hux.’

Hux steps down into the living area and approaches Kylo where he is posed against the column.  He places his own glass on the table by Kylo’s leg and puts the other int he bounty hunter’s hand.  That leaves both his hands free to reach up towards Kylo’s cowl.

‘Hux.’  The taller man is too surprised by the movement to flinch away, mesmerised by the man’s audacity.

‘I have spent less than a day on this planet, Kylo Ren.’  The General comments mildly as Kylo’s cowl depresses and it is lifted off his head by confident fingers.  ‘And already, I am bored.’

Hux turns and deposits the cowl with the rest of Kylo’s affects, before picking up his glass again.  Kylo takes a sip of his brandy on autopilot, his eyes fixed on the man standing too close to him.  His throat and stomach light up with fire.

The General lifts the brandy to his lips for a sip.  ‘What are we to do about that?’  He asks with another smile, stepping away and back up towards the bed.  He looks around and surveys Kylo once more.  ‘Much better,’ he announces, ‘though the cowl could come in handy later.’

Kylo swallows the rest of his brandy, hard.

He leaves the glass next to his mask on the table and approaches Hux and his bed.  ‘Do you think you can trust me, Hux?’  He asks, curious under the General’s self-assured, powerful gaze.

Hux laughs easily.  ‘Of course not.  You are a man capable of stabbing your own kind in the back, if it will get you a bounty, aren’t you?  But you’ll get no reward for stabbing me in the back, Kylo Ren.’

‘Just Kylo.’  The bounty hunter steps up onto the same level as the General, using his height to lean over him.

Hux finish his brandy and looks up at Kylo.  ‘Just Kylo.’  He agrees.

Kylo sees Hux’s head tilt, slightly, and he feels as though he’s being pulled down to taste the brandy on his lips.  The bounty hunter’s kiss is pushy, insistent, and his arms come up to grip Hux’s slim shoulders.  

Hux places a hand in the centre of Kylo’s chest, controlling the force of the kiss.  Kylo is surprised by his strength.  The General allows his head to tilt up, so Kylo can press down his advantage, both mouths opening to admit the other.  Their teeth clash.  Kylo is taken aback when Hux nips him playfully, painfully.

After a moment, the General draws back with a soft laugh.  Kylo looks down in confusion.  Stepping backwards, Hux places his empty glass on the sideboard.  When Kylo doesn’t move to join him closer to the bed Hux gestures to it.  ‘Well?’

‘What do you…?’  Kylo pants, struggling for coherency.

‘Want?’  Hux’s voice is less amused than annoyed now.  He moves to the bed and lounges back on it, showing off the lean planes of his body.  ‘Bounty hunter,’ he drawls, ‘I am bored.  Entertain me.’

 

—The Entertainment—

Kylo does not have much experience as prey, but stalking towards the General where he is reclining on the bed, he can’t help but feel strangely vulnerable.  Perhaps it is the way that, even with his head thrown back and his legs splayed, Hux’s eyes still follow his every move.

When he gets to the side of the bed, Kylo’s hands fumble, unsure what to do.  He settles for pulling of his cape and flinging it to the side.  Next he reaches down for his boots.  

Hux’s head tilts to the side, to make it easier for him to watch.  Kylo feels even more self-conscious when he unties his boots.  His easy charm has deserted him, and now he is pulling his shoes off awkwardly, teetering on one foot and then the other, his eyes down at his scuffed, dusty tunic.

But it must be entertaining, because there is no more annoyance in Hux’s gaze when Kylo glances up.  The bounty hunter’s gloved hands move away from his now-bare feet towards his trousers.

When Kylo starts to undo the fastenings, Hux lets out a quiet hum of approval that sends blood rushing to the bounty hunter’s face and groin simultaneously, fast enough to make him feel dizzy.  

He knows how he must look: wild black curls around a long, red face dotted with moles, atop an oversized body awkwardly struggling out of a pair of trousers.

Kylo shucks them hastily and moves on to his tunic, pulling it over his head in one motion, and peeling off his gloves with it.  It strikes him then that he is completely naked, in a depot brimming with storm-troopers.

A hand on his bare chest cuts through Kylo’s thoughts.  Hux’s eyes are trained on the path of his hand, pushing around the curve of Kylo’s shoulder and gripping, fingers flexing over muscle.  Kylo shivers as the hand moves back down his chest.  He feels powerful, suddenly.

Hux removes his hand and looks at his palm with a grimace.  ‘You need to use the refresher.’  He states.

Kylo blinks.  He falters.  He is half-erect and fully confused.

‘You’re covered in sand and… Tatooine.’  Hux explains mildly.  ‘Oh and sweat, but that’s not such a problem.  Still,’ a lazy smile crosses the General’s lips, ‘you’re not getting sand in my bed.’  He flicks a finger in the direction of the refresher and waits, lounging on the bed.

Kylo watches the harsh light of Tatooine slide through the blinds and run its golden fingers through Hux’s hair in dumb silence.  He has the urge to follow their path with his own.  He also has the urge to leave and never come back.

He moves away from the bed, aborts, reaches for his robe to cover his nudity, then stops himself again.  After a moment of indecision, he awkwardly circles the bed, naked, and heads towards the door on its right.

Behind the door lies a ‘fresher stocked with nondescript bottles and soaps.  Kylo steps in and presses the washing sequence, his eyes focussed on nothing.

By the time the sequence has finished, Kylo has resolved to leave with all haste, taking out any trooper, or officer, that tries to stop him on the way.  With that in mind he steps out of the refresher and turns towards the bed to gather up his clothes.

The General lies propped on one side, his eyes closed, his body stretched out over the covers.  Light plays along the lines of his body, highlighting pale skin and thin, corded muscle.  Hux is naked.  Kylo’s muscled body feels clumsy in comparison.  

His eyes fall to Hux’s waist, where the angle of slim hips creates shadows that draw Kylo’s gaze towards the junction of the General’s legs.  Where Hux’s hand is moving in languid strokes.

Kylo’s resolve rushes from his brain and sinks down to his cock.  His throat feels full of sand and, dimly, he can hear it clicking as he tries to form words.

‘Well?’  Hux does’t open his eyes.  ‘Are you getting on the bed or not?’

Kylo’s feet decide without him, sending him stumbling forward back up the step until his knees hit the side of the mattress.  Carefully, hyperaware of his overlarge limbs, Kylo sinks onto the bed.  He is unsure where to put his hands.  The bounty hunter feels out of control, like a teenager, fumbling, speechless.

When Hux rolls on top of him, that feeling intensifies.  That pale, lazy smirk is inches from his mouth, and Kylo’s eyes are transfixed as Hux’s hands begin to move down his body. 

When Hux pulls his body down the bed, so his head is level with his hands, Kylo stops breathing.  He watches, unsure what he is allowed, as Hux presses his smirk to the head of the bounty hunter’s cock.

‘Much better.’  Hux murmurs, then swallows him down.  Kylo’s head snaps back in shock.

Kylo is hot.  He is hotter than he was prowling around Tatooine at noon in black robes.  He is hot despite the cool evening breeze that trickles over his skin- (or are those Hux’s fingers, stroking up his thighs, as his head moves between his legs?)  Kylo is flustered, his muscles jerking in shock at a particularly harsh suck.  He is out of control.  Sweat is trickling down his back and his eyes are squeezed tight, his hand searching down for Hux’s hair.  The soft strands slide between his fingers.

Hux pulls off and Kylo almost sees stars - but not in a good way.  Hux is smirking, his hair in disarray, his pupils wide.  Kylo searches the pale face franticly, desperate to work out what he needs to do to get attention back to his cock.  It makes the General chuckle.

Hux crawls back up Kylo’s body languidly, pressing against his tanned skin.  Lips press to the bounty hunter’s face and legs insinuate themselves between his.  Kylo groans helplessly.  Dimly, he becomes aware of an unfamiliar buzzing sound.  Kylo turns his face away from it instinctively, towards the wall.

From somewhere, muffled, a voice calls: ‘Sergeant Hux?’

The General breathes out, stirring the curls on Kylo’s forehead.  ‘Ten minutes Corporal.’  Hux does not shout, but his voice carries across the room, commanding.

Kylo turns back to look at Hux, his eyes wide and slightly hurt, though still glazed with pleasure.  When Hux sees the look, he presses down again, this time rolling his hips in a lazy grind that has Kylo moaning once more.

‘It seems we’ll have to speed things up.’  The bounty hunter is gratified to hear Hux force the words through gritted teeth as their erections rub together.

His hands come up to the General’s shoulders, one sliding into the soft red hair, the other pulling at one sharp hip bone, forcing Hux’s rhythm to quicken.  Hux rubs their chests and their cocks together, and Kylo can feel pressure building in his groin once more.  His grip becomes demanding and his groans become constant, forced out of him along with his breath with every flex of Hux’s hips.

Kylo is close embarrassingly fast.  Above him, Hux’s brow is creased in pleasure, but still he seems in control, carefully monitoring the speed of his trusts.  Kylo feels frustration and arousal build up in his limbs under the General’s collected, intense focus.

He tightens his hand in Hux’s hair, suddenly, and pulls him down roughly for a kiss.  Hux seems to enjoy it, pressing his mouth to Kylo’s with renewed vigour, biting the bounty hunter’s tongue.

Kylo comes, finally, in a long, drawn out moment of pleasure.  His body jerks and goes taunt once, twice, then settles.  Mewls still spill from Kylo’s throat at the friction against his sensitive cock as Hux continues.  

When his eyes can focus, the bounty hunter looks up to find the General watching his face intently, hands planted on either side of his head.

Kylo stares back and watches as Hux comes undone above him, before settling over him with a final, drawn out moan.

Hot, sweaty, and smothered by the weight of a stranger in the aftermath of his own pleasure, Kylo lies still.  Even when Hux rises abruptly and sets about cleaning himself up and donning his uniform (hung up, immaculate, on the door of an armoire), Kylo does not move, except to turn his head to follow Hux’s sure, measured movements around the room.

When Hux turns to the door Kylo forces himself to sit up.  He will need to go, too.  He will need to gather his clothes, his helmet most importantly, and find his way out of this sprawling complex, before making his way-

‘Stay there,’  Kylo wonders where Hux learnt to make his voice carry without raising it - his orders seem absolute, unquestionable.  ‘Don’t leave.  I’ll show you out when I get back.  Sleep.’

Kylo mumbles something tiredly, something about being trapped, only in a different type of cell.  There is no weight to his words, and Hux only smiles indulgently at the garbled sounds.

‘Until then, bounty hunter.’  He closes the door behind him.

Kylo cannot sleep when he isn’t on board the Millennium Falcon.  He lies awake or keeps watch and he runs through his plans over and over, but he never dozes off anywhere he doesn’t feel absolutely safe.

He sinks into sleep in a stranger’s bed, far away from his ship, and he doesn’t give it a second thought until Tatooine’s stars rise again to announce the morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't say how often I'll update this because my other fic needs a lot of work and the end of Summer is approaching fast, but I'll do my best!


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